


Discomfort

by AnnieVH



Series: Don't Come Back [9]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Tea, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bae apologizes and Belle's attempts to cheer Rumple up don't go as well as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discomfort

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: past domestic abuse (including psychological, verbal and sexual), past child abuse, terrible parenting all around. Anti-Milah, anti-Malcolm. Rated mature just for safety.
> 
> Verse: Don’t Come Back, a Behind Closed Doors remix
> 
> Beta: MaddieBonanaFana

“And, in conclusion, what I mean is,” Baelfire continued, twisting his hands and making an effort to look Belle in the eye as he continued his unnecessarily long and formal apology, “I really didn't mean to offend you. I spoke without thinking. It was really stupid on my part to call you that. And stare at- I mean, uhn...”

Belle, who'd caught the gist of the apology five minutes ago, tried to interrupt him for the third time. “Bae, really, it's alright. I accept your apology. I know you didn't mean any harm.”

Bae stared back at her for one second, momentarily lost, just like he had when his carefully thought out speech had just started and she'd caught him off guard by saying, “Mr. Gold, it's fine.” She probably didn't treat him so formally whenever he'd imagined this situation, nor did she go so easy on him. After trying it for the second time, though, Belle realized the formal treatment was only making him feel even more uncomfortable, so she switched it to his first name. His entire body relaxed from that alone.

“I _am_ sorry,” he insisted. “I hadn't gotten to that part yet, but I am.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

“I won't call you that again. Miss Belle.”

“You don't have to call me Miss Belle.”

“I could talk to grandpa. Ask him not to call you, you know, _that_.”

Belle had to smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it's alright, Baelfire. I can handle Mr. Gold.”

He nodded, still looking like the issue was not over for him.

“What is it?” she pried, gently.

“Just... you sure you're alright? I could, I don't know, help you out today. Or something.”

“What you can do is stop beating yourself up over it. It was a silly mistake. I'm not mad.”

Bae still looked unsure, but he said, “Okay... so... I was going to make sandwiches.”

“Oh, don't mind me,” she said, taking a step to the side to clear the way to the fridge. “I'm just taking a break.”

He opened his mouth, but closed it quickly before more apologies could come out. Then he hurried by her without glancing up. The whole situation still made him clearly uncomfortable, though Belle wasn't sure why exactly. Was it the way that she'd just forgiven him so easily? Maybe his parents were much more strict than that. Or the uniform? He still seemed to have a hard time looking at her. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was being forced to share this strange house with a young woman he didn't know. Mr. Gold had told his father that he had sole custody of Baelfire, so he probably spent most of his time with his dad. To move into this manor, with a maid and a grandfather he'd never met before was bound to through him off.

She watched him open the fridge and retrieve jars of peanut butter, jam, mayonnaise, and a can of tuna.

“That's shaping up to be an interesting sandwich,” she joked, as he started looking for a plate.

“What?” he asked, confused. Then he realized what she meant and offered the tiniest smile. “The tuna and mayo one is for dad. Do you want one, too? I can make it.”

Belle shook her head, thinking back on the very few groceries they had on the one shelf Malcolm Gold had granted them in his double-door fridge. He'd instructed her to keep an eye out for his own food to make sure nothing went missing. Apparently, his son had signed a contract agreeing to a certain number of meals per day, and Gold would hold him to his word. Not that Belle thought their agreement was unfair, per say; given the old man's reputation, she knew it could've been much worse, and his son had seemed desperate enough to agree to anything. But to restrict their access to his fridge felt petty.

“I'm alright. But thank you,” she told him. “So, did you have a good first day at school?”

Bae looked up from his sandwich, then back down again. It took him so long to come up with the answer (“Yeah, it was cool.”) that Belle thought she'd overstepped and that the best way to make him feel welcome would be to leave him alone.

“Oh, that sounds good,” she said, measuring the level of cheerfulness in her voice. If he felt patronized, then they'd be back to square one. “Did you make any new friends?”

“Some. Graham took me to my classes. Him and Mulan said they can show me around later, since I don't know the town. But I don't think dad will let me.”

“Storybrooke is a safe place, I'm sure he'll come around.”

Bae shrugged, not looking very optimistic.

“How about your teachers?” she asked, earning a shrug from him.

“I dunno. There's Miss Blanchard. She's nice. Very chatty, though.”

“Yes,” Belle agreed, smiling at the mention of her friend. “Mary Margaret can be a little too curious if you let her.”

“You know her?”

“I suppose everyone knows each other in a small town.”

“That's weird, man. I didn't even know all the students in my year when we were in Boston.”

“You'll get used to it. How about Mr. Hader? He used to teach History when I was in school.”

Bae winced. “Yeah, he's still there.”

“I take it he's still a jerk.”

“A little bit. But his class is fun, when he's not drilling you with random questions.”

“He loves History a bit too much. Did he do the hair thing yet?”

“The what?”

“The hair thing. It's a sort of- It's hard to explain. You'll know it when you see it. He actually forbade water bottles inside the classroom because we made a drinking game out of it.”

Bae laughed. “Seriously?”

“Yes. He tried to stop doing it altogether, but he can't help it.”

“Who can't help what?” Mr. Gold asked, limping into the kitchen.

Belle told him, “We're laughing at Bae's History teacher's hair.”

His tired face seemed to softened a little bit. “That is oddly specific. But it's nice to see the two of you getting along.”

“Of course we are, Mr. Gold. You raised quite a gentleman.”

Baelfire looked down at the sandwiches. There was a little blush on his cheeks, but he was still chuckling over Mr. Hader.

“Don't I know it?” Mr. Gold said, standing by his son, ready to steal his tuna sandwich the moment it was ready. “Thank you, son.”

“Do you mind if I eat upstairs?” Bae asked. “I want to start on my homework.”

“Yes. But don't make a mess. And don't leave crumbs.”

“I won't,” he said, already carrying his plate up the stairs.

Belle watched him go and then turned to his father. “I'll clean up after he's done, Mr. Gold.”

“It's alright. He'll be careful. He always is. His mother is a bit of a clean freak.”

Belle nodded, pretending not to hear the bitter note in his last words. Still, he must have felt the taste of it in his mouth, because he had to wash it down with a bite from his sandwich.

“I was going to make myself some tea. Would you like some?” she offered.

“You're done already?”

“I'm taking a thirty-minute break. I've been carrying boxes all day. My back could use a little sitting around and a cup of tea.”

“I'm sorry, did you want to be alone?” he asked, looking as ready as Baelfire was to scurry upstairs.

“I just offered you tea,” she said.

“Yes. Yes, you did. Thank you, I'd love some. I think I could use a break myself.”

Belle got up and put the kettle on. “Not a lot of kids would rush to do homework like that.”

“Yes, if he still had a cellphone, I'd get suspicious. Though I'm sure I'll find him reading a comic book when I knock on his door.”

“That sounds like a healthy teenager to me, Mr. Gold.”

“Yes, he's a good kid.” He finished eating and took his plate to the sink. Belle said he could just leave it, but he insisted on washing it. “You're carrying boxes, that's enough work for a young lady. Especially in those heels.”

“Yes,” she said. “They're killing me, but your father insists they're part of the uniform.” She saw him roll his eyes. “My sentiments exactly.”

He put the plate down and fetched two teacups. Though he offered to prepare the tea himself, Belle wouldn't let him, and soon they were leaning on the kitchen isle and sipping at their cups.

“You do know how to make a cuppa,” he said, sounding very content.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

“Rumple.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I mean, you could call me Rumple. He's not listening in. Actually, I think he just went out.”

“Rumple,” she tried. When Malcolm Gold didn't jump from behind the counter to accuse her of being disrespectful, she shrugged. “I suppose there's no harm. I mean, we _are_ drinking tea and everything.”

Rumple made a sound with the back of his throat, as if he wanted to laugh, but it died before it even reached his mouth.

“You look like you could use a break as well,” she said.

He shook his head. “Not a good day. But I suppose it could have been worse.”

“It always can,” she agreed. She'd been repeating that mantra since the first day she started working in that house. Some days were easier to believe in it than others. Belle put down the empty cup. “What time would you like dinner to be served?”

“You can just leave-”

“Rumple.”

“Right. Six is fine. I still have to go to the library. Does it have internet?”

Belle scoffed. “It doesn't even have a computer.”

“Thought so.”

“What do you need? Maybe I can help.”

“I need to search for a job,” he told her. “Not that I'm holding my breath about the job opportunities. I don't believe they got much better in ten years.”

“Actually, Valentine's Day is just around the corner, so you never know,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.

Rumple stared at her.

“What is it?”

“I completely forgot about Valentine's Day.”

“Well, it's coming. And people are always in need of extra help around this time.”

He still looked skeptical.

“You'll see,” Belle told him. “I bet by this time next week, you'll have found a job. And then your only worry will be who's the pretty girl Baelfire will take to the school dance.”

“Oh, lord,” he groaned, digging the heel of his hand into his eye socket. “Don't tell me now I also have to worry about _girls_.”

 

 


End file.
